


The Wrong Foot

by The Little MerBucky (blue_pointer)



Series: Sing, Sing, Sing [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Bucky Barnes, Angry Steve Rogers, Angst, Ballet, Beauty and the Beast reference, Big brother steve rogers, Bucky's Recovery, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Confrontations, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Insecure Steve Rogers, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jumping to Conclusions, M/M, Nanomachines, Relationship Trouble, Spying on your boyfriend, Stark Spangled Soldier - Freeform, Stark Spangled Winter - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, Swan Lake - Freeform, Wanda Maximoff Feels, Wanda Maximoff cooks, dance, fighting with your boyfriend, kick drum heart, sam wilson - Freeform, starkbucks - Freeform, stonucky - Freeform, stuckony - Freeform, suspected winterwidow, the death of electronics, when Tony is telling you to get help you're fucked Steve, winteriron, winterironshield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9262328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/The%20Little%20MerBucky
Summary: In a universe where Zemo failed to break up the Avengers at the end of Civil War, Bucky moves into Avengers Tower to start the long road to recovery.Tony builds Bucky a studio for his dance therapy. Nat starts to teach him ballet, and Steve loses his mind. Even Tony notices all is not well in Stuckyland.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the [Kick Drum Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542774) universe. The chronological order of fics which take place in that universe is:
> 
> Kick Drum Heart  
> No Hard Feelins  
> Part of This Complete Breakfast  
> The one I Hate  
> Boom Boom Pow  
> Tony Stark's On-Call Hotel Detective Agency  
> The Wrong Foot  
> Bālāsana  
> The Babysitter

It was with a renewed sense of caution that Steve returned to New York. Keeping Sam’s advice in mind not to fly off the handle without talking to Nat first. And not to decide maybe a monogamous heterosexual relationship was the best thing for Bucky without talking it through with Tony (and maybe even Bucky!) first. He immediately sought out Tony to find out how things had gone in his absence. If there had been any more...infractions.

That’s how he found out about the dance studio. Tony said Bucky’s room wasn’t big enough for him to dance in, and Steve had to agree with that much, at least. But a full-on studio implied, well. Partners. And Steve’s Achilles heel was his two left feet. Which meant the dance partners would not be him.

As before, Tony didn’t seem troubled in the least. He’d had the studio built as another gift for Bucky, and as with Bucky’s privilege to play music in the Tower, he quickly took advantage of Tony’s gift. Steve got into the habit of sitting at his desk for much longer than usual, pretending not to watch the video feed from the dance studio which he had tucked into the top right of his monitor while he was working.

“Oh my.”

Steve scrambled to minimize the window so that it looked like he was just moving more of Clint’s viral emails to his spam folder. Unfortunately, he still struggled with personal computers, and managed to maximize the window instead.

Wanda leaned on his shoulder, taking a closer look. “He’s so...flexible.” Steve found himself wishing he’d had Tony install that trap door under his desk so he could just disappear into the floor. “Was he a gymnast...before?” Wanda hadn’t had much contact with Bucky. For one thing, she spent most of her time at Clint’s farm, and for another thing, she’d confessed to Steve that she found him intimidating. Considering she was probably the most powerful one of them now, with the exception of Vision--and even that was debatable--that said something to Steve about his best pal and how he still came off to people who didn’t know him.

“Uhhh…” The question made Steve’s ears turn a little pink. “No. He was always real athletic, though, when we were kids.”

He could feel her eyes on him. “It must feel strange for you to have him back after all this time.” She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. “Do you know what I thought when Clint first told me why we were going to help you?”

“No.” Steve was curious now, though. He’d been too busy to really think about it before. And, to be honest, what mattered most was that his team complied with his orders. Not why.

She looked out the tinted windows of his office. “I thought, how precious that must be, to have someone you love come back from the dead…” He saw her lower lip tremble, and Steve automatically reached out for her hand. Wanda didn’t talk about her brother much, but even Steve knew Pietro was always going to be an open wound for her. Wanda looked up at him with watery eyes. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”

He folded her in a warm knit-sweater hug. “Trust me,” Steve told her, “I do. Believe me.”

Wanda wiped at her tears with her fingers, sitting back. “If there’s ever anything I can do.” Steve nodded. But after the number Wanda’s tampering had done on Tony in Sokovia, he’d just as soon not go that route if they could help it. Ever. In fact, he hadn’t even mentioned it to Bucky as a possibility.

“Hey, you know what?” Steve had just had the greatest idea. She looked up at him with limpid blue eyes. “How do you feel about cooking sometime while you’re here?”

A number of micro-expressions crossed her face. Insult, at being asked to cook for a number of (mostly) men who were perfectly capable of feeding themselves, worry that they might not like what dishes she knew how to make, and then happiness at an opportunity. “Vision’s been asking me for another cooking lesson.”

“Oh, uh--” That wasn’t exactly what Steve had had in mind. “I mean, yeah. That’s great. But I was thinkin’ maybe you’d get Buck to help you instead.” She looked vaguely mystified. “Or they could both help,” Steve amended, misinterpreting the look on her face.

“Does he...” she asked slowly, “ _like_ to cook?”

Steve inhaled, thinking. What to tell her? After going through some of Hydra’s files, Nat had made it clear to both him and Tony not to mention Bucky’s sisters. Ever. “Well...I don’t think he remembers, but cooking...kind of used to be a family thing for Buck. I was thinkin’ it might make him feel...I dunno.” On second thought, maybe it was too much of a risk. “You know what? Scrap it. Bad idea.”

She touched his arm, smiling. “I think food is a wonderful way to connect. To help him feel…”

 _Human_ , Steve thought.

“...welcome.”

 _That, too_. Steve smiled back at her. “Thanks, kid. You’re a real doll.”

She pinched his cheek, fond. “And you’re a throwback to a bygone era of toxic masculinity where referring to women as toys and children was considered an endearment, so I forgive you.”

 _Touche._ She hugged him, though, so Steve figured they were okay.

 

*

 

The ballet lessons started even before Wanda’s cooking lesson. Steve had no idea how it started, just that one minute Bucky was working out and practicing alone in the dance studio, and the next, Nat was there, too. In a leotard.

Somewhere in there Sam had flown up for the weekend and had a sit-down with Nat. Of course, he refused to tell Steve what they’d talked about--something to do with patient confidentiality. But the next thing he knew, Nat and Bucky were alone in the darkened studio practicing lifts, and Steve was very uncomfortable.

“Lookit them go,” Tony remarked, poking at some of his new nanomachines in a petri dish as he watched the monitor.

“How can you be so calm about this?” Steve needed to take his frustration out on someone, and Tony was always the best candidate.

Tony rolled his eyes. “You know, Sam told me to call him if you lose your shit again over our boy’s relationship with Romanov. Are you about to lose your shit again?” From his tone, he knew Tony wasn’t about to tattle on him, he was just using the threat to check him. Tony would never choose a friend over a therapist of any kind.

“I’m not losing my shit!” Steve shouted.

Tony just raised an eyebrow. “Well thanks for clearing that up. Hey, would you hand me that--” He was pointing, and Steve started to guess before he finished his sentence. “No, the--warmer--nope. There, you got it.”

Steve passed him the yoghurt that had been sitting out for who knew how long. He made a face. “Is it really safe to eat that while you’re…” He gestured at the nanomachines.  

Tony shrugged, eating while he peered into the microscope. “They’re already inside me, not gonna make a difference if they get into my food at this point.” Something about that bothered Steve. But he wasn’t the one who nagged Tony to be careful with whatever his experiment of the day was. That was Bucky’s job.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Yes, lover?” But he didn’t look up.

“Have you seen much of Buck since…?”

“What, since this whole Bolshoi bonding thing started with Romanov?” Tony thought about it for a split second. “Sure, about the same. But you know, the garage is like a second home for our Bucky bear. Ever since I fixed up the arm, he’ll come in here and sit with me while I work.” Irrationally, Steve was jealous. But he knew it was an irrational thing to feel. Which made it rational. Right?

“So why don’t you come visit me in here more often?” Tony asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles where his feet rested on the engine housing of something big.

Steve wanted to say it was because he had no business being in Tony’s work area. That there was no part of his job that brought him here apart from his partners. But something about the way Tony was sitting there, the way his jeans clung to his legs… “‘cause I know if I ever came in here, you’d try to seduce me.”

“Come on, now,” Tony smirked. “I never just try.”

“Okay, maybe not.” And then he was tackling Tony to the cement floor for some good, old-fashioned tension relief. Boy did he ever need it.

Unfortunately, Bucky wandered in while Steve was still tucking his shirt back in and fixing his hair. Tony was curled up asleep on a tarp, naked as a jaybird. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Havin’ fun?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve said, terse.

But Bucky only looked confused. “Stevie, are you mad at me or somethin’?”  

“No.” Which was an utter lie, but he wasn’t about to go into all of that right now.

Bucky just watched him. Then he seemed to give up, sighing. “You shouldn’t let Tony sleep on the floor like that. He might catch a cold.”

Steve tried not to glare. Sure, he’d worry about Tony. He’d dance with Nat. Talk with her for hours. But him, his best friend...he didn’t seem to care what Steve was going through. “Do somethin’ about it, then, if you care so much.” And even Steve could tell that was over the line.

“I will,” Bucky answered simply, tossing a blanket over Tony and kneeling down to scoop him up. He didn’t say a word as he passed Steve on the way upstairs.

“Well...fine!” But Bucky didn’t respond. And that made Steve even more angry.

 

*

 

After that, he threw himself into his work. Tried his best not to be around. Even avoided Sam. The next time he watched Nat and Bucky in the dance studio--though he’d tried his best not to look--they were clearly working out a routine. The White Swan _Pas de Deux_ , Tony said, but Steve didn’t know from ballet. That was so Manhattan--Lincoln Center, the Met--and he was a Brooklyn boy at heart. He’d thought Bucky was, too. But Steve just didn’t know anymore. And it was horrible. In his head, he could hear Sam nagging at him to talk to one of them. Stop jumping to conclusions and just sit down. But that went against every bone in Steve’s body.

Bucky ambushed him one night. “Why don’t you ever come see me in the studio?” he was asking. Immediately, Steve’s face grew hot with guilt. Did Bucky know he spied on him? Constantly? And if he didn’t, was he feeling neglected? Like Steve didn’t care, or support his new therapy technique? That thought fell like a lead weight in his chest. “I don’t...dance studios are for people who dance. You know I don’t dance, Buck.”

“I taught you once, Stevie. And studios are for practicing. For learning and...getting better. We could practice togeth--”

“No thanks.” Bucky frowned at how quick Steve’s answer was. “Seems like you already found a good dance partner.”

“You’re a fucken _punk_ , you know that?” Bucky stalked off, scowling, and Steve didn’t see him again--in person--for days.

 

*

 

“You know I’m the polar opposite of a counselor,” Tony was saying.

“Uh-huh.” Steve was checking his morning newsfeed while eating his customary five dozen eggs.

“But even I’d say this is getting kind of out of control between the two of you. I mean, **I** noticed. And I don’t tend to notice things that don’t involve me.” Steve glanced at him briefly. “Okay, so it does involve me, because I happen to have sex with both of you--something I haven’t gotten to do in weeks, by the way, though I can’t complain about the one-on-one attention I’ve been getting from each of you lately.”

Steve bit into his toast. “So Buck’s been comin’ to see you?”

“In the May West sense, yes. And also the usual way.” He wiped coffee off the counter and strolled over to a couch, sitting down with one foot tucked underneath him. “Is this normal for you two wonderboys, though? To draw out a fight for days?”

Well, it wasn’t, and Steve was loathe to admit it. Because, frankly, it was scaring the shit out of him. He was starting to think Bucky really _was_ leaving them for Nat. Only now, after talking to Tony, it seemed like maybe it was just him. “Oh wow. Should I call Sam?”

“No, don’t call Sam,” Steve was saying, grumpy. “I’ll talk to ‘im. Somethin’.”

“My mom always used to say sooner is better than later.” Steve just stared at him. Tony shrugged. “What? You think everyone in my family was as dysfunctional as me and dad?” That made Steve cringe, the reminder that he regularly slept with the child of one of his old friends. He didn’t like to think about it.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You’d better, because--”

“I said I’ll take care of it, Tony!”

But he didn’t. He let it fester, threw himself into work in an attempt to distract from it. And it ate away at him, day by day, the distance between him and Bucky growing inside him until Steve felt utterly isolated, alone, left behind at the station days after the party train had pulled out with all of his friends on it. He knew he only had his own stubbornness to blame, but that just made him more angry.  

Steve finally saw the writing on the wall when he found himself standing in front of the monitor, crying, watching Nat and Bucky dance together like they’d been partners for years. The way their bodies moved together, their legs, completely synchronous, formed the same angles. The tender way Bucky leaned toward her, dipped her, held her. How Nat trusted him to manipulate her body, lift her into the air, catch her. Though their faces showed only focus, their bodies moved as if controlled by a single mind.

Steve blinked when the screen suddenly went dark. That was what happened when you put your fist through sensitive electronics.  

It was time to have that talk with Nat.


End file.
